


I've dug two graves for us, my dear

by DecayMode



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Delusions, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, School Shootings, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-21 19:44:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12464556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DecayMode/pseuds/DecayMode
Summary: Itachi Uchiha used to be many things. A smart child. A reserved teenager. A good student. An unhinged adult. What set Itachi off no one knew, but all could speculate.A day after his nineteenth birthday and a week before his planned departure to university, Itachi stole a rifle from Fugaku's locker at the police station and took it to school with him.





	I've dug two graves for us, my dear

“You're a sick fuck,” with the words finally said, Sakura gets up and storms out of the room.

Naruto hides his eyes. Beside him, Sasuke doesn't move a muscle, only sits in place frozen and barely breathing. There is a long moment of silence. Without breaking it, Naruto follows Sakura only to stop at the other side of the door. He takes his phone out and stares at the screen.

Does he make this call? Sasuke is in a dark place. In a state of mind that scares Naruto, because— _hell._ If he would try and do something to himself? Naruto can't have that.

But locking him up in a mental ward _again_  seems like it might do more damage than good.

And, lastly, Naruto doesn't think he can possibly stay near his friend one more minute.

With a grit of his teeth, Naruto hides his phone, pulls his hood up, and runs down the stairs. Sakura must've gone far at this point and he might not catch her, but getting away from here is what he desperately needs. He'll go alone, in company, take a bus, walk home. As long as he moves away from here, it's fine.

_Sick fuck._

He'd never call Sasuke that. But today, after what happened, it fits.

 _A sick fuck_. Calling his best friend that is nauseating.

***

Itachi Uchiha used to be many things. A smart child. A reserved teenager. A good student. An unhinged adult.

He made the news that day. People and the media didn't shut up about him for _months_ , and rightfully so. When things like that happen, how can one expect everyone to get over it? This isn't a matter of weeks or months or even years.

The city officials closed off the high school building, while the majority of its students were swift to leave the town.

This town isn't much more than a dead end for any kind of future anyway. No matter how affluent, it had old people coming here to die and rich families residing here for the sole reason of nothing ever happening.

What triggered Itachi, none of them knew, but everybody speculated, taking the role of couch psychoanalysts and clinical psychiatrists.

Sasuke hated all of them, which fueled the pain over his brother even more.

A day after his nineteenth birthday and a week before his planned departure to university, Itachi stole a rifle from Fugaku's locker at the police station and took it to school with him. Sasuke was there when his older brother started firing. A bullet scratched his upper arm, and the scar hasn't really faded over the months.

Back then, Sasuke thought his brother would kill him. Whether Itachi intended to or not, Sasuke's corpse would be among the rest of the students'.

***

Sakura has a point, come to think of it.

Sasuke was shell-shocked—all of them were—and in his case, condoning his brother's actions was easier. Naruto can see that. Saying that there was something wrong with Itachi was safer than admitting to what he had done at school. After getting out of school unscratched, save for a slash of a bullet and a burn from its heat on his shoulder, Sasuke acted inadequately.

He tried to call Itachi's number.

He told the police his brother might be in danger.

He cried, like many other students, but Naruto knew it was for an entirely different reason.

Twenty six students and three teachers died, seven of them lost within a week after. Naruto knew almost all of them. Sasuke, on the other hand, didn't. It only worsened his condition, helped him to further dissociate from that day in his memory and others' words.

***

“I can't fucking believe him,” Sakura shakes with rage. Her stomping in the high-heels is so loud Naruto almost expects to see holes in the asphalt.

He ran to catch up with her. She was muttering and cursing under her nose, and Naruto heard more profanities from her today than during the entire time they've known each other. Seems unlikely, but Sakura is so furious everything she says goes tenfold.

”—And I mean—Did you even _hear that_!?” she bellows, stopping in her tracks and looking at Naruto like he's the one who set her off. “Tell me he didn't say it!”

There're tears in her eyes, he notices now that he can see her face. Her voice didn't betray them, though. “Yeah, Sakura. I heard that.” He hangs his head between his shoulders, slouches. They aren't far from a bus stop, and if they hurry, they might catch the last night bus.

“‘ _Itachi didn't want to hurt people’ HOLY FUCK!_ ”

At this point, everyone in the neighborhood knows exactly what they're talking about.

“ _He actually said that_ , Naruto. He actually fucking did.” She starts walking again. Naruto has to break into a jog to keep up. She probably doesn't care about the bus, so he remains wary for any fists coming to collide with him or something.

Sakura's hella pissed. He isn't risking it.

“How can you keep so calm?” in a much softer voice, she asks finally, her figure drooping. God knows Naruto can't deal with her crying right now.

He hugs her and leads her forward, because damn it, the idea of walking home to wear off today's bullshit sounded good, but now that he's actually outside, it's cold as all hell. Late October and all that.

“I'm not calm,” Naruto replies after a pause. It's true—he isn't _calm_. He's just too tired to act on his feelings.

Sasuke is his childhood friend, just like Sakura. For fuck's sake, he had a crush on him. Until the very last straw he did.

“I just don't know what to do anymore.” He sees the stop across the street, as the lights of the bus move by it. Dammit. Sakura notices, too, if her tiny sniff is any indication. “I think I'm just more sad than anything. His parents refused to admit him to a hospital.”

“He has stupid parents and a stupid family,” she whispers. Ever since that day, Sakura hasn't referred to Itachi by calling him Sasuke's brother. She only calls him by his name, because she didn't know him well and it doesn't hold any familiarity, and skips the surname as well.

Uchiha are a big family, and calling such a _monster_ by their name is stupid, she said. Although, as Naruto recalls it, she never called Itachi a monster, either. He's a bit grateful. He knew that man. Or, thought that he did.

They sit at the bench, and Naruto unlocks his phone to request a Uber. Chilly air burns his lungs less now that he isn't walking. Sakura starts shivering and leans into his side to keep warm.

***

Itachi is on a run. No one knows where he went, and while being reportedly seen in almost every state, there wasn't any evidence of him being in the country. No evidence that he's crossed the border, either.

Fugaku quit the police before they could publicly kick him out.

They put surveillance on the entire Uchiha family, including those living across the ocean.

Sasuke figures it makes most sense.

He clutches a spam letter in his palm, the one the police looking through their mail overlooked, and cries. It's ugly, loud, he uses up a pack of paper napkins to keep his nose clean so he can get some air in his lungs. He can't breathe properly. Or breathe at all.

This isn't yet a panic attack, but if Sasuke keeps this up, it'll turn into one.

He sits on the floor, turning away from the door his friends have just walked out, and inhales, counting to five.

The images of blood and his brother's tears vanish from his head. All he sees is color black, calm and patterned with circles and dots when he closes his eyes. The silence seizes ringing—

Sasuke coughs, overcame with another wave of sobs and crying. His throat's on fire, and blood pumps in his ears.

***

Itachi sends him letters all the time. They look like advertisements, usually talk about some shitty town issue and show up in the mail of several neighborhoods whenever Sasuke receives one.

At some point he started to doubt the sender. It must be his paranoia. It kept Sasuke from sleeping at school nights, staring at yet another brochure about computer help or new pizza delivery service.

Sasuke threw all of them out in a fit of rage, and then had a mental breakdown the next day upon checking the mail and seeing a flyer with a photo of a seaside he took several years ago. They were on a family vacation, and it was the first time Itachi overestimated himself and couldn't hold his drink. A twelve years old Sasuke had to lead him outside so the parents wouldn't see it, and they spent half a night walking, comfortable in the warm summer air and white sand under their feet.

The ad said _Spend the Fall in Summer_ , and had a bunch of contact info on the back and the backup mail reading _reddawn_ —

Itachi used to paint, and Sasuke's favorite piece had this as a scribbled title in a corner. _Red dawn_. A blood-red sunset above a sea, with the stars only hinted in the dark-blue line of the sky.

Sasuke took the painting off the wall and hid it in his closet, away from his mother's upset eyes. He put the flyer behind it, folding it in two and writing a bunch of numbers just in case someone decides to rummage through his room.

It turned out to be a wise decision. After his fit of hysteria, his parents admitted him to a mental ward for evaluation. He kicked and screamed at first, and then calmed down to silent sobs. “Why did he leave us, mom,” he kept on asking, weak and childish. His mother hugged him tighter, but didn't allow herself the tears.

***

Sasuke knows where his brother is. He spent months trying to decipher the brochures and then flipped as a realization hit him.

They used to do camping trips when he was ten, and had to stop because Itachi hadn't enough time when he started high school. He could be there, right?

“Hmpf.” He spills hot tea with milk on the way to his room and leaves the stain to dry.

Such a silly idea—why would his brother spend his time in a forest like some hermit? No, obviously this isn't it. He could be working, yeah. An underground business. Black market. Drugs.

During one of the trips, they stumbled upon a field of definitely not everyday crops. Itachi ushered them away quickly, but Sasuke saw him sneaking out of the tent that night.

There is a drug trafficking ring in this town. And that alone leaves little doubt in Sasuke's mind—his brother must be involved, otherwise surviving being a public enemy is... impossible, right?

It's not like civilians see those drug smugglers and all kinds of people involved in the business. So Itachi might be working for them. He most likely _is_.

So that leaves Sasuke having a vague idea of where he can find his brother, if he ever wanted to. Which he does. He drew the conclusion some weeks ago, sitting in a stuffy hall in the August heat and listening to his teachers, then police officers and then parents rumble on and on about the sacred human life...

He lost consciousness in the heat, and was having weird visions upon coming to. His brother standing close, bumping into his knees and scolding him over sleeping during classes with no real malice or anger in his voice. Itachi was sweet, like always, and had a sad smile on his face. Sasuke had sweat all over his face and tried to wipe it off his upper lip when suddenly the image in front of him went film grain-like and turned into Naruto hovering above him with a worried expression.

The woman whom Sasuke recalled speaking last stood silent, and everyone's faces were turned in his direction.

He bolted out of there on wobbly legs, ignored Naruto running after him and hid behind a corner so his classmate would leave him alone. It was the first time he went to the nearby 7-11 to buy booze, and the owner standing behind the counter actually let him buy it without asking for an id.

Sasuke figures he recognized him as a student of _that_ school, and the bandage he still insisted on wearing and changing since June was a give-away to some sort of injury.

He drunk himself until blacking out in an opening of a forest, just a step outside the town. It had an old creaky and now weather-stained sofa someone dragged over here, finding it in trash. An array of beer bottles and broken glass. The location wasn't yet in the wild, but already desolate enough to keep a wasted teenager away from any prying eyes—unless more school kids came here for the same reason Sasuke did.

His parents went looking for him within an hour, or so they said. They fished him out from a park at eleven in the evening, and he refused to speak with them an entire week and a half for no solid reason.

 _God_ , he wanted his brother back.

Sasuke imagines Itachi materializing on their doorstep, saying it was all a set-up and he made a mistake. He imagines steering the flow of time himself, coming back two days early for his brother's birthday and opening up his heart and soul.

_I loved you, always. I don't want you to leave, but if you do, I want to go with you._

Whatever Itachi does Sasuke would accept. He could transfer to a school near Itachi's new apartment or he could go with Itachi to the police station if his words didn't change anything. Even if only in the hopes of stopping him, because what Itachi did was cutting them apart. He burnt the bridge that connected them, set up a situation in which their separation is inevitable, only to start reaching out in any way he could because he can't really burn out the memory with blood and time. So can't his younger brother.

Sasuke is a selfish bastard for thinking that and a horrible person for overlooking all the pain Itachi has caused to others. But  _has he really?_

***

The first month was the rawest.

Anywhere Naruto would go, it would all be about _Itachi Uchiha_. They kept calling him by his name because that allowed the media to shame the entire Uchiha family and their business.

People whispered whenever they saw Sasuke. Somehow, someone got his personal phone number, and the entire town, then state, and then country knew. Sasuke stopped using it, and the calls and messages skipped to people he's known to befriend or go to school with. 

Naruto changed his number and then had to change it again, and all the while hot white anger was boiling inside of him. He was ready to explode any minute. During that summer, Naruto _hated_ and _loved_ everyone.

It was due to fear, mostly, that communities were drawn together more than before. He himself was ways more overprotective than usual, sensitive to the mere thought of another person fucking losing it again.

His mom and dad were acting overprotective to the point of unbearable. At times Naruto had to control his breathing in order not to snap at them because _he knew why_ they were doing it, but at the same time, Naruto also was a person not used to being monitored at all times.

All security in town became tighter. People eyed every person who stood out with suspicion.

Sasuke didn't go out alone anymore, at least during daytime. This had Naruto worried crazy.

He saw the scars on his wrists and how his black t-shirt was hanging off his shoulders loosely, how Sasuke's skin wasn't just white anymore but grey, blue in places, sickly so. He looked like a man going through a serious illness.

After rattling his brain a bit, Naruto figured it was the case.

Sakura stopped hanging out with them altogether. She said she needed time, and Naruto only saw her with her parents or in a company of girls from their class. She laughed some days and seemed moody at others. It was only a public image, and so Naruto hoped she was truly doing better.

The town was recovering, and when September came the overall wariness subsided. Sasuke showed up at school two weeks after it started. Naruto constantly searched for him—they were in a new building and if he didn't show Sasuke around, his friend would be lost and thus late to pretty much every class as they all were during the first week.

Sasuke got lost, and was always late, but it didn't stop even when October hit.

***

Today's the day the first snow fell. It covered all ground, trees, cars and building in a frosty-looking layer of ice, and by nine in the morning it all turned to mush under Sasuke's feet.

He takes a couple steps further down the sidewalk and stops, rolling on his feet from toes to heels for a second before shrugging. “Hn.” With a a backpack swinging from one shoulder, Sasuke spins around and heads back home. His parents left earlier, so one point off going to school today.

He doesn't want to, because he isn't planning on writing down anything. He would listen to his music the whole day as usual. To think he has to travel all the way to school only to hang around there for six hours and then drag himself home? Yeah, Sasuke doesn't think so.

He dwells in the kitchen, makes himself a cup of green tea in the biggest mug he could find, and runs up the stairs, leaving a trail of hot water behind again. He really needs to wash the floor some of his stay-at-home days.

Without really giving it a thought, Sasuke walks past his room and stops near Itachi's. He grips the mug in one hand, and a shortly-set timer in his head takes off. The mug burns his skin and the key is somewhere at his belt and Sasuke has not to only fish it out, but to also unlock the damn door.

When the muscles of his left hand are about to let go of the mug on their own accord, Sasuke finally has the door open and changes hands with a hiss.

Itachi's room is all neat, with a huge window free of any curtains or blinds. The wallpapers are bluish-grey, but the wooden floor covered with a fluffy carpet, black and white furniture and a big painting of a huge white crow make the room rather lively, leaving a cozy feeling to it. Everything seems to be in its place. A tidiness that Itachi always maintained. The single thing out of place, with no way of missing it, is the bed.

They covers are a mix of grey, black and white, arranged in big unmatched squares. The blanket is wrinkled and unmade, which isn't how Itachi left it. Ever.

But exactly how Sasuke always does.

He takes off his jeans and the shirt and puts on his pajama pants. The mug is set carefully on the bedside table, joining a copy of _Heart of Darkness_ and a bottle of Sasuke's sleeping pills—over the counter ones, though his doc did recommend taking them an hour before he goes to bed for a night.

Sasuke flops on the bed, sprawls, and curls up under the blanket to sleep.

He only has a couple more times of that before he would have to change the bedsheets, and it's a risky affair given that his mother would most likely notice her son using the washing machine.

Sasuke inhales, but only smells dust and not much else. He hasn't really recognized someone else's scent, ever, and while Itachi's would have definitely wore off by now, Sasuke doesn't recall it the first time he lay in this bed either. It's weird. Books always go on about this stuff, a person's unique scent, and it has Sasuke feel...

Left out, of all things.

The only solid reminder of Itachi is that flyer in his closet and the damn book Sasuke just can't finish. He would read a page or two, forgetting what was the guy talking about at the beginning by the time he reaches the end of page two, and, frustrated, Sasuke would put the book back on the table where it belongs by now. Maybe he's stupid and Sakura's right.

With a sigh and a roll of his eyes because he knows already how this attempt number one hundred something is going to end, Sasuke opens the book and lays on his back to try and read.

***

The next day, he finds the same flyer about spending the autumn in summer and can't not send a concerned look to the car down the street. The two officers assigned a watch over him show up every now and then, but are inconsistent. The paranoia is back in Sasuke's head in a second, and it twists all his thinking into a dark and swampy mass of anxiety.

He checks Itachi's room for any changes just to make sure, goes through the entire house in search of anything out of place and does find that.

The backyard door is ajar, but it's cold outside and his father quit smoking long ago. It makes sense Fugaku would relapse now, but so far Sasuke hasn't seen him with a pack, and the man never exactly hid his habit.

Stepping slow as if someone might jump him, Sasuke creeps through the door and out into the veranda. He shivers from the biting wind, surveys the backyard for any sign of someone being here, and turns back home with a sigh when he sees it.

A small piece of paper, tucked neatly between two wooden planks.

Blood rushes to his head when Sasuke recognizes the tight curvy handwriting as Itachi's, and he has to lean on the wall to slide down to avoid hurting his head when he falls. Blood echoes in his ears—Sasuke has lost consciousness enough times to know what's about to follow.

Fighting the blacking out vision, he crumples the note and shoves it up his sleeve.

Sasuke never really learned how much time exactly he usually spends out of it, but he isn't about to risk his parents discovering the find. Distantly, he hears the clinking of dishes in the kitchen sink before everything just isn't there.

***

“Sasuke...”

“Please wake up,” his mom clutches his hand and no doubt leaves bruises to accompany his broken and reddened skin.

Sasuke tries to use his voice to reply and croaks. His mouth and throat are completely dry. With head feeling too heavy and occupied for a drum session, Sasuke stays lying on the floor of the veranda. He squints one eye open. Keeping it that way is a struggle, Sasuke doesn't have any strength for that.

He gulps, winces at the pain, and tries to relax. The buzz in his head would stop eventually. Similarly, the fatigue will wear off, but not unless Sasuke strains himself now.

Fugaku clears his throat from his spot in the doorway. “Did you eat.” Not a question—his father already knows the answer.

Sasuke doesn't bother to admit he's right.

“I'll help you to your room, Sas'ke,” his mother says and wraps his hand over her shoulder to help him up.

All Sasuke wants is to push her away. He isn't _weak_ and he only needs five or ten minutes of rest. He can get to his room on his own. But when Fugaku takes his arm from the other side, Sasuke has no say. He focuses on the crook of his right arm instead, attempting to sense the crumpled note to make sure it's still there.

It is, tangled in the threads.

Fugaku takes all Sasuke's weight and gets him to his room himself, with Mikoto supporting Sasuke so the two of them won't stumble. Sasuke's pretty much out the entire trip, one moment still outside and the next, being laid on his bed with care. Mikoto says something about making him a light dinner and tea and leaves. Fugaku stays.

After a minute of awkward nothing, he sits on the edge of the bed, and the mattress dips under his weight.

“If you could stop—“ Fugaku starts and cuts himself short with a grunt. He hides his face in his palms for a moment before speaking again. “Your mother's worried as it is. _Worried_ is nothing to describe her state—you know it.” Another pause. “I know how much he affected you. But I want you to keep on living, and I want the same for your mother.”

Sasuke rolls on his side, testing his strength, and then on his stomach. “Okay.”

“You always say that. To anything I tell you. I don't want your words, I want a response.”

Mikoto's hurried steps are heard from the hallway. Fugaku tenses.

Sasuke's eyes go wide when he feels him trace his hand from elbow and lower in what could be a reassuring gesture.

Mikoto places a tray on the bedside table, kisses the top of Sasuke's head. His parents leave together, there's a distinct click of the door being closed.

The second he can no longer hear their steps, Sasuke jolts to a sitting position. Dark spots swim in his vision. Almost hysterically, Sasuke unwraps the note—it tears at the edge. His heart stops for a bit until he realizes the message is just three words:

_finish the book_

When his heart rate slows back to normal, Sasuke gets on his feet to sneak into his brother's room. His parents are downstairs. It sounds like they're discussing something, though there's no way Sasuke can distinguish a word out of the hum of their voices.

He's still unsteady on his feet and lightheaded, and his mind is blissfully woozy and clear of any thoughts that can linger long enough to form. Sasuke retrieves the book. Though it does take him good ten minutes if not longer to get back and change his clothes.

***

 _Heart of Darkness_ turns out to be as sickening as it is unreadable. Sasuke has a vague grasp of the plot, but a big chunk of the story goes in and out of his head as he reads the words without actually reading them.

But a second to last page, Sasuke finds another message—a scribble under the line _The last word he pronounced was—your name._

He jumps out of his bed and stumbles into the bathroom to throw up. Shaking, with sweat running down his forehead, Sasuke leans over the toilet and repeats the words like a mantra, “Shut up. Don't cry and shut up.”

Neji Hyuuga was right on his left when Itachi started firing at him. The scratch Sasuke has on his shoulder—it's nothing but mockery, as Neji got a dozen bullets in his chest and stomach and bled our within minutes. Sasuke had Neji's blood on his face, clothes and hands, and he hadn't let go of him by the time the troops came in to make sure the area's safe for the medics.

It's Neji's name that is written under the line, and _what kind of sick joke is that?_

All walls inside Sasuke's head are crumbling. He just doesn't get it—why the fuck would his brother—

Why would he—

“ _Why the fuck did you do that_.” Sasuke's voice breaks as he _wails_ , for the first time since that day struck with the only question that matters. “Why— Why the fuck did you—“

_Itachi destroyed everything._

_The lives of innocent people—of children—Sasuke's—_

_Sasuke's life and their life together_ , all of it can't come to be anymore, and Sasuke is left in this damned house and this fucking town, alone and with a bunch of people he doesn't need—doesn't want to _see_ ever again.

***

His mom's eyes are puffy from crying, and Naruto can't stand looking at her anymore. He averts his gaze and tenses, guessing that whatever she's going to tell him, it's bad news.

“Is it Sasuke?” he asks, voice cracking at the name.

When she doesn't answer, Naruto has to look up again. Just from her expression alone, he knows.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm totally done re-reading and editing this piece for now, so if you notice any typos or mistakes, feel free to point those out!  
> You can also find and contact me on Tumblr: [decaymode.tumblr.com](http://decaymode.tumblr.com/)  
> I reblog (fan)art, fandom-related posts and sometimes can't keep my-humble-opinions to myself.
> 
> Title from xxxtentacion's song _revenge_ , which definitely has an uchiha vibe to it.


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